FER [feat. St Valentine] - cocoa

Title/Author : FER [feat. St Valentine] – cocoa / Bunnisteffi

Rating: T

Words: 2,948

Genre: Romance/Comedy

Summary: An AU IchiRuki one-shot with Ouran-esque-prestigious-high-school / Animorph elements, in which Rukia decides to gift Ichigo tea mix for his Valentine, Ichigo thinks that it isn’t enough and thus the usual mayhem with a critter-y twist unfolds.

Written for BA IchiRuki FC Be My Valentine Contest. 2009.

Theme 1. Rukia got the best idea for Valentine! But is that really a good idea?

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FER [feat. St Valentine] - cocoa

It did seem easy.

Ingredients – Bergamot Orange Infusion

Dried peel of bergamot orange

1 tsp black tea leaves

Spice blend (to taste)

Sugar (to taste)

Water, boiled (add to prepared mix)

She had everything needed; fragrant bergamot orange peel... check, tin of imported Ceylon black tea leaves... check, sugar... check, water – that was for later.

The problem was Rukia had no idea exactly what 'to taste' meant. To an average person's taste buds, or to that of the specific drinker's? She had only a faint impression of Ichigo liking his chocolates sweet and his curry spicy. Sweet and spicy, huh…

With swishing sleeves, the girl pulled out compartments from a spice cabinet she had brought from home. They contained hand-harvested dried herbs prized by the Kuchikis for their particularly potent flavours. (In truth, when Rukia had left the mansion on her last visit, no one had found anything amiss in the spice room, and she very much hoped that it would remain that way. If the elders were to find out about the theft taking… ) She dumped in heaped spoonfuls of seeds and ground leaves from each chosen compartment into a wooden bowl. After a moment’s consideration, she let loose clouds of powdered cocoa and sugar onto the concoction.

There. She eyed the mixture with a sense of self-gratification. She didn’t have to shed hair fretting about her Valentine’s gift; the whole lot of chocolates from the patisserie in town - a Valentine’s cliché - had long been reserved by the other females and it would be a pain to make her way down to the shops. The recipe for the tea infusion had come in good time. Besides, her kind had been famed herb-mixers in the region for centuries.

Since her inclusion into the family ages ago, the elders had taken pains to school her in the art of concocting mixtures. It was also a part of the family business, of which she was the supposed heiress of. Well, with her years of training, whatever that came out of her hands would be far superior to the bonbons made by Kurosaki Ichigo’s fangirls…

But will Ichigo like this? The cavilling thought bothered her. She knew that he did not object to the scent of herbs that clung perpetually to her, even often burying his nose into her hair, claming (once, awkwardly) that it calmed him, doing that. Still… she had no clear clue of what his kind liked.

Rukia’s soft black curls fluttered in one short, shuddering motion, as though she was shaking off the niggling doubt. Whatever it was, she still had to give him something. The mixture was passed through a paper funnel into an ornamental glass bottle, sealed with a metal cap embossed with her family emblem and deposited into a silk carrier which she slung on her wrist.

Heels clicking softly on the parquet flooring, she left her room for his.

-

She eyed the rays of light playing across the vast ceiling. Really, he did not deserve having such a lovely space when he hardly ever entered the place. But Rukia supposed that it was partly her fault; he snuck into hers most nights, considering how inattentive the instructors were, it was really…

Rukia straightened up on the canopy bed, having heard the approaching muted thud-thud thud-thuds. She pelted forward to sweep open the door as a sleek black ball hurtled in.

That is, a black ball of fluff with an orange-tipped tail that started spitting and hissing upon entering.

She turned her back on the animal, her cheeks suddenly tinged pink, as she could very well imagine how he looked while making the change. She may have been sharing her bed with him, but she had never seen him in the nude, save once. And if once was enough to have frazzled her mind so thoroughly…

To her dismay, she was to blush even harder when she heard the first human words that he uttered –

“ –sssStrip! ” Ichigo’s voice was frantic as he rushed to throw on some clothes.

“Wha–?!” Pulling on his jeans took only a fraction of time that when he turned to spin her into his hold, he managed to catch her red face, a half-and-half of indigence and – what was that? He would save it for later, as he launched into the second part of his rather bold commands.

“Hurry up strip and shift, Rukia! It’ll be my pelt if your brother hears that you’d suffocated while shifting. The White Coat’s after you again– Just got word from Getaboshi-sensei, said that I’ve a couple of minutes to get you out to his hide-out– Oi Rukia!”

She was shaken out of her momentary stupor, hastening to climb onto his bed. Ichigo pulled shut the gauzy draperies around her as he continued, “Getaboshi’s almost found out why the creepy White Coat’s been trying to catch you alone all this while.”

He tried not to stare through the sheer cloth.

“…‘diot... mean Urahara-sensei… ‘rotsuchi-sensei, don’t you?” Her retort came out rather spoiled.

She was unable to see the grimace that accompanied his snort. “ ‘Sensei’, Rukia? Much as you trust your honourable Byakuya nii-sama, you can’t still think that this is some school for the privileged; we’re practically caught here as lab rats – You’re done?”

“…”

It usually took her longer than anyone he knew did to shift to her core form. So he took a couple of precious seconds in an attempt to preserve her dignity (and save himself from needless agony) before inching the drapes open.

A sigh of relief: Perched atop her neatly folded garments was a white dwarf-sized rabbit.

Ichigo held open the pack he had secured earlier. Rukia leapt off when his hands reached out for the pile of clothes; a well-aimed indigo glare deterred him from slovenly dumping them in like he had done his. As he was about to lift her into the bag, she avoided his hands, darting to one side to grip the silk carrier between her teeth.

She jumped into the pack with Ichigo’s valentine without sparing him a further glance.

Then darkness enfolded as he strapped down the cover while muttering aggrievedly under his breath. “Here I go now, Chappy-san,” he told the rabbit in the pack strapped around his torso. “Enjoy the ride.”

Rukia felt herself being plunged to the ground as Ichigo sprang forward, having switched as he fell upon his paws.

-

He slipped out through a flap in the door, into a hallway that had been magically filled with several dozen pairs of maidenly legs.

“Kurosaki-sama!” Crap. He had forgotten about the fangirls while making his getaway plans. “Ichigo-senpai!” Had they been lying in wait of him they moment someone sighted him in this form? He considered turning his flashing his claws at them, they and their bedamned chocolates. But he would get hell from them later, as most of who were of his crowd.

So – flight. He eyed the converging fleshy columns and then looked through them; that was his escape route.

Ichigo yowled, plunging into the suddenly excited foray of legs. The heavy pack (it has been lighter earlier) walloped against his torso while his sides bumped on shin after shin. Apparently, they did not take his mrraaooow! to mean Open sesame. And at some point, he felt a pair of strong somethings kicking and digging into his spine. Damn Rukia. This, even though she knew that he was helping her!

He could not grit his teeth nor curse in the human tongue, and so he did his best to ensure that she felt every part of the bumps and the jumps which followed thereafter. As he left the chorus of anguished shrieks and headed down the corridor, he made sure to add an extra spring to his steps; he bounced down the long stairway to the back entrance; he squeezed through the smallest of all possible entry holes out of the school grounds.

It was all lost on Rukia, of course. She probably had felt only a fifth of all that he had put her (mostly himself, really) through since she was cushioned safely among her clothes. There had been no movement from her other than the painful kick she had dealt to his spine a while ago. It did help, though, as he was sure that the route he had taken would have shaken off the White Coat’s underlings.

Ichigo had at last brought them to the entrance of Urahara’s hideout (one of them, anyway – new ones popped up whenever they were needed). This one was located rather out of the way, in a clearing a great way from the compound. No one would be able to find it, Getaboshi-sensei had assured him.

And he would love to see Rukia’s face when he got her out after this.

Without further ado, Ichigo plunged into the algae-infested pond. He had to rise twice for air, before managing to find the large protrusions some way down on the far bank. The pack on his bag squirmed a bit while he did so; he felt sorry for her. But he had finally found the hideout – the sandy wall pulled itself apart when he rubbed his torso against the knobbly button things.

The wall proceeded to engulf them.

-

It wooshed them down a tunnel, sliding out into a room at the end of it.

… A room, if one should choose to be lax with the definition of that. It was an arena of intricately carved stone walls that would have been artistic masterpieces if completed. Interconnected stone structures trailed all around to form a crazy maze that came with hidden stone seats and high perches. Light came from glass globes that were adroitly hung around the structures.

Ichigo refused to let his jaw drop, nor gaze at the stone wonder around him in wonderment. He was certain that the architect of this ‘humble hideout’ had installed video and voice recording features in here, and he had no wish for him to gain an ego boost. Moreover, this was from experience; Urahara had recently dropped the bombshell, revealing that he had enough blackmail material gained from those other recordings. A Valentine's recording would certainly render him insufferable for weeks.

Instantly shifting back to his human form, he snapped off the uncomfortably tight elastic strap of the pack and stretched his tense muscles. Ahhh… There were also the several sore spots on his back to be accounted for.

He dropped down onto a low bench nearby (that really was a hole in the wall), placing the sodden bag onto his lap.

“We’ve reached, Rukia. Gonna get my clothes out first.”

It was either that she had not heard him, given that her ears could have been water-clogged, or that she had felt so relieved at being released from the bag –perhaps both – that she had crashed right out the moment he lifted the flap.

Right out into his chest.

His bare chest, she was aware of that much. A strange wheeze escaped her as her limbs swiftly lengthened and her pelt became patchier. She would have lost her grip on that form entirely, had the following not happened:

“Kurosaki-sama and Rukia-chan!” They both froze.

“Welcome to Kisuke’s Hideout XV: The Stone Venice! This is a pre-recorded message. Do not be startled if you have already leapt out of each other’s embrace or paused in any amorous activities et cetera; the Great Engineer has (regretfully) not implemented recording devices of any sort in this particular hideout. Please take your time to enjoy the delightfully romantic ambience of The Stone Venice! Amenities such as dry clothes, champagne and chocolates shall arrive in shortly via the Great Engineer i.e. me.

Yours truly,

Urahara Kisuke"

P.S. This Hideout was created specially with this special day in mind. Perhaps it would please Kurosaki-sama for Rukia-chan to remind him exactly what this lovely occasion is.”

In the time lapse of which this message boomed upon the two of them, Rukia successfully became rabbit again and threw herself off Ichigo’s naked lap, leaving behind long gouge marks in the process. But Ichigo had anticipated this move and managed to catch her midair, holding her out as she struggled in spite of the stinging pain on sensitive flesh. He ground out, “What’s the matter with you?”

In that moment, Rukia stopped violently trashing. What was the matter with her? She shut her eyes, breathing in deeply. Why was she suddenly so evasive about changing in Ichigo’s view? Why was she fighting against the one who cared the most for her? And then she remembered something she had noticed earlier, that had slipped her mind when Ichigo had caught her up in his manic actions. In her current state, she would not be able to get what she wanted out of him.

Ichigo realised that her almost limp form meant that she had calmed down considerably. He glanced over before passing Rukia over his shoulder to set her down on the ground behind. “I won’t look. Honest, Rukia,” he promised.

He placed the thoroughly soaked garments beside Rukia without turning back. She heard him rummaging through the bag. Cautiously, she looked up at the stone bench; it was empty, so he was probably off putting on his clothes in some corner.

Shuddering violently to shake moisture out of her coat, she moved someway past the hole in the wall where she would not be seen regaining her form.

-

Meanwhile, Ichigo had come upon a bottle shrouded in fine silk, which Rukia as her lapine self had insisted on bringing along. He supposed that he was entitled to open what that would be his, sooner or later.

His nose picked up the different notes in the blend of scents; camomile, bergamot… cocoa… Just how much of it had she added to the mix? What exactly was this thing?!

-

She had settled down on the floor where he had left her, her head visible at the top of the stone bench. Rukia was combing through her wet raven-black hair with her fingers, her back facing him. Good – she was unaware of his approach.

Just metres away, he uncapped the glass bottle. The concentrated scent dispersed and, like fishing bait, turned her attention to him. In that instant, Ichigo promptly upturned the bottle’s contents onto her damp hair.

“…!”

She was startled into non-movement. He reached down to pull her into his arms, turning his tongue first onto her hair, and then onto her earlobes. Her widened eyes narrowed, indigo expressing shock, then annoyance, then her eyelids fluttered shut. She was acting very much like a kitten being groomed now. She could not focus enough to remain dumbstruck, not when was doing he was doing his best to send the sensitive spots on her neck into a flurry. She forgot that she ought to be angry with him, for he had just turned her gift to him into some sort of dry shampoo. And then the scent of the herbs that now engulfed her senses… frenzied her senses.

At some point, Ichigo spoke into her hair, something inaudible.

“… nn…?”

He removed his lips from her head. “I said: I am exacting payment from you. For kicking me, twice.”

“… This is what you call ‘payment’?” Rukia’s voice was tart; inwardly, she was confused. She turned in his loose hold and looked up into his face, trying to find answers to his strange behaviour there. Ichigo’s eyes were dilated. Something shifted in his gaze, but she could not tell what it was. “I… I…”

The uncertainty in his tone took a sudden twist.

“Bergamot, Rukia?” He questioned, a smirk appeared on his lips. Just where was he going with this? She nodded, eyeing him suspiciously. He kept doing and saying these things that threw her off guard.

“The bergamot citrus, used in control spells in folk magic,” he recited, as if by heart. “You can’t really have been jealous all this while?”

He knew. He might have made this insight from the wrong source, but the fact was, he actually knew. She had not known about the control thing, that was an unexpected coincidence. She put it at the pungent scent of she-cats on heat in the hallway just now, which she had also noticed when he she was changing form in his room. That was why she had kicked him there and then. All this while, she had feared losing him, afraid that…

Ichigo, noting how lost she looked, enveloped her into his arms. His eyes were soft, expression flitting between exasperation and relief as he guessed the reason she’d been acting as she had, once again hitting upon the right nail.

“I won’t go running off with some she-cat, idiot kit.”

“… I knew that.”

He planted a kiss firmly atop her herby hair.

-

A while later, Rukia and Ichigo had tucked themselves in a strange gondola-like structure. Urahara Kisuke had yet to show up.

“What is this herb blend supposed to be? Since when have the Kuchikis dealt with shady things like love potions– ”

“What? It’s a bergamot orange tea infusion! I made it from a time-honoured clan recipe.”

“And who would put sugar into tea mix?! It’s a pain getting it out of your hair.”

“Only an idiot would have thought of pouring that over someone’s head. Idiot.”

“…”

-

And a little while later-

Rukia remembered something, "'Love potion'?"

“… No one has ever told you what chocolates do to me, Rukia?”

She denied knowing what.

“Well, you saw how I’d acted just now…”

Tense silence followed.

“If you ever have to, uh, seduce me, it’s that easy – OW!”

-Finis

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A/N:

This is the Valentine’s chapter of a yet to be written multi-chapter series, tentatively titled FER. I hope that you have enjoyed feline!Ichigo and lapin!Rukia (if you haven’t already figured out what they are) as much as I have writing them. I was told by someone that Ichigo’s more like a dog than a cat, but I can’t kick the image of a cat-Ichigo outta my mind. I suppose it must have been the influence of a couple of cat-Ichigo/Rukia fanart that I’ve seen around the place.

There’s definitely a running plot that I can’t seem to incorporate into this standalone chapter; therefore, I’ll like to know how interesting you folks find this first, as well as any ideas that you have. FER will be the first multi-chaptered AU fic that I am trying out, and I do hope that you guys will like it.

Avatars and Banners: Off the IchiRuki FC

...And up on here! :) Here are a couple of avatars and banners/siggies that I have done and posted on the IchiRuki FC at the Bleach Asylum.

If you would like to save and use them, feel free to do so, but it would be greatly appreciated if you can leave a review. (And no stealing!)

Bunnisteffi

Zaraki Kenpachi's Decision to Save the Day: The Cause

Hello, ya'ens.

I present to you a short-fic of mine: Zaraki Kenpachi's Decision to Save the Day: The Cause.

It was inspired/fueled/instigated by the last panel of Chapter 297, of which Kenpachi suddenly appeared and shouted 'Ichigo!'. Because I had been rather pissed/depressed about the whole Rukia being treated as a cockroach matter, I'd written this short story (like, incredibly short) as a form of de-stressment. Enjoy!

Rating: K+
Pairings: Kenpachi/Yachiru (platonic), IchiRuki
Warnings: Spoiler up to Chapter 297
Summary: What'd made Kenpachi decide to drop by Hueco Mundo, just in time, to 'save' Ichigo?
Words: 707

Rumours spread pretty quickly in seireitei, and the scant true ones reach the ears of the taichous even faster than the speed of shunpo.

When the 11th Division taichou first heard that the former-ryoka had disobeyed Old Man Yama’s orders by going into Hueco Mundo to save the traitorous Inoue Orihime, at the same time dragging some of the Soul Society’s key ally-fighters along, he was hardly worried, nor had he felt an urge to deprecate Ichigo’s actions.

In fact, he had thought, “That boy sure has guts. I approve!”

Moments later, Kusajishi Yachiru burst into her taichou’s quarters (it is unknown why she wasn’t perched on his shoulder all this while), shrieking, “Ken-chan! Ken-chan!”

Kenpachi, who had been sitting at his desk, working on his reports (or at least, trying to give off the appearance of doing so), looked up.

Gruffly, he asked the pink-haired girl, “What?”

“Ken-chan’s friend is in trouble! He’s goin’ to be killed!” Yachiru fluttered her arms wildly as she said this.

In trouble?

“How the hell do you know that?”

Just where had she gone, to know all this? A quarter of an hour just ain’t enough to rush to the real world and…

Yachiru gabbled on, “By intuition, of course! C’mon, Ken-chan! We have to save him!”

She was now at his side, grabbing the rough cloth of his taichou’s haori (Of course it would be rough; it’d gone through that many washings to be rid of those offensive stains.). Kenpachi immediately stood up. Small as she was, he knew that if she were to start tugging, he would have to take the trouble to secretly procure yet another similar-looking haori. (To this day, nobody, except for Yachiru and Kenpachi himself, has realised that his current haori is not the original that he had won from the previous 11th Division taichou.)

“Why do we have to go save him? He’s strong, ain’t he?” Kenpachi actually sounded sulky.

They both understood what he had meant by ‘strong’. After a couple of months, Kenpachi was still smarting from having been defeated by the smaller orange-haired substitute shinigami. Yachiru gladly used this to her advantage (and eventually, it would be his, too).

Yachiru clapsed her hands to her back, and started circling the larger, weathered-looking tatterdemalion. “But that is precisely why you would have to rescue him!”

Before her taichou could ask why, she continued, “You want to fight him again, don’t you? You want to prove that you’re stronger, right? If you were to get Ichi-chan back, he would be forever grateful to you, wouldn’t he? Ichi-chan is that kinda person; if you help him once, he will do whatever you say, Ken-chan!”

It is highly questionable how Yachiru came to know Ichi-chan’s character so well. Even more mootable is the fukutaichou’s assumption that Ichigo would be appreciative of their delivering him from danger’s path. But Kenpachi was not one who doubted either or both of the above. All he did was to grunt in agreement.

“Saving the Midget and Jiggly and Pencil and the rest is important, too!”

Huh?

“Especially Midget-chan!”

He was now really puzzled. Kenpachi correctly identified ‘Jiggly’ as Inoue, and ‘Pencil’ was obviously the Quincy, but ‘the Midget’…?

He looked down at the busily orbiting Yachiru, asking in a rather incredulous tone, “Kuchiki’s sister?”

The pink-haired girl nodded emphatically,” Yes! Of course we’ll have to bring Midget-chan back, too. Then Ken-chan can fight your buddy indefinitely!”

“What?”

How does that even make sense?

“When Ichi-chan marries Midget-chan, he will stay in seireitei forever, Ken-chan,” explained Yachiru seriously.

Kenpachi balked. He had no idea that his young companion was already interested is these sort of things. However, as he turned her words over and over in his mind…

Zaraki Kenpachi, the 11th Division’s taichou (which is to say, the Ruthless Tyrant-Chief of Soul Society’s very own Rowdymen), grinned wolfishly.

“I see. Let’s go save Ichi-chan and his Midget-chan, then.”

Yachiru had by now managed to, without Kenpachi’s realisation, herd him to the doorway.

She beamed up at her Ken-chan. “Knew you’d agree.”

The smallish fukutaichou leapt skillfully unto the back of the sinewy taichou. With the billow of a ragged haori, the duo sped off to save the day.


Bunnisteffi

The Essence of IchiRuki through a Scarf

Hello! New artwork, if you consider a crocheted piece as 'art'.

I call it: The Essence of IchiRuki through a Scarf.

The colours black, white, orange and purple are Ichigo's and Rukia's theme colours. Kubo-sensei has apparantly picked them, since the covers of SOULs. and VIBEs. show that. And it's fluffiness is inspired by Rukia's love for rabbits. I'm quite proud of my new scarf, and I'm planning to bring it along when I go to Japan. :D

Bunnisteffi

Insubstantial Mirage Artwork

Hello. I decided to draw out Shinkirou this morning, and so happened to draw Rukia, too. Then I photoshopped the drawings. Here's the result:

It's grey and boring because I have not learnt how to colour stuff yet.

I will be working on the other Revelations soon. Let me give a brief intro about the series, since I haven't done so before.

The idea to create this series had origniated from two story ideas. The first is 'Insubstantial Mirage', the other, 'Lucia et Aurantius'. For some reason, I'd thought of the word 'Revelations' on my way home in a car (good inspiration-givers, cars are), and looked it up in the dictionary later (dictionaries are my favourite references, I have about 3 to 4 English dictis, 3 German, 1 Japanese, 1 Italian, though I hardly ever use the last one).

'Revelation' had four meanings, which I will reveal later. Insubstantial Mirage is based on the first definition. Lucia et Aurantius on the fourth. I'm still thinking of stuff to feel the two in the middle.

I'm going to post everything onto FF.net only after I'm done with at least 3 stories. Mirage is in it's finishing stages. I'll consider it 'completed' only after a couple of people have read it and given their views. Therefore, I would need your comments, swiftly-swiftly, if you're reading this, dear reader.

Thank you!

Bunnisteffi

Revelation the First : Insubstantial Mirage ~Take 2~

Second Draft

__________________________________________
Revelation the First

Insubstantial Mirage

弱い蜃気楼 :
A “What If”/AU Story

By Bunnisteffi

His heavily-gauzed fingers brushed against the several palatial wooden tables that he encountered along the corridor. They were all wonderfully smooth and cool, like a healing stone of sorts for his tender, throbbing hand.

He wondered why all of the beautifully carved and seemingly identical furniture had bare tops. After all, tables were supposed to be used, weren’t they? Unless they were some rare antique stock that Kuchiki Byakuya had procured solely for the purpose of decorating his mansion…

Ichigo quickly removed his hand from one. He sure as hell didn’t want to be cut into pieces just because he had caused the tables to rot or something.

In his mind, the tables that he saw around his house mostly had things on them, usually books, Isshin’s medical stuff, or the occasional vase of flowers, if Yuzu had the time to pick them. But no, the ones here were ornamental enough to each stand individually by themselves.

Ichigo mentally shook his head. He didn’t understand Byakuya, and he was quite sure that he would never be able to understand that weird guy who wore a scarf that if sold, could facilitate the cost of building ten large houses, and the kenseikan that made him look utterly femme.

As he continued in his search for the doorway which would lead him to his destination, Ichigo looked out of the large windows that framed the entire right wall of the corridor. Outside, the sky was dyed a deep cinnabar; the sun was setting. He had rushed here right after waking up from two days of healing and resting at the 4th Division quarters.

-

Ichigo was very sure that she would be in a worst state than him, having been completely rammed through with an arrancar’s weapon. The image of her lying in a pool of blood was cut deep into his memory, one that couldn’t be shaken off, most certainly for his entire life (including the future half that would be spent in Soul Society). He had managed to get there in time, after Nell turned the tide again and took his place in defeating Nnoitra and Tesla

Rukia. She had clutched at his arm, mumbling, “Nakama…hearts…we connect…” before finally passing out. Ichigo was relieved that she hadn’t died while her reiatsu had faded to nothingness. He was even more surprised that she had stayed conscious enough to say something. What did she mean? ‘Hearts connect’? Ichigo hadn’t asked her then, since it was not possible to wake a near-death (or whatever state a shinigami is in that is similar to that) person just to clarify a few words she had said. So Ichigo had done his best by carrying her in his arms and shunpoing at his Hollowfied-bankai speed to the real world portal, rushing her to Soul Society immediately after Urahara-san had said that only the 4th Division taichou could fix Rukia. Even then, only Inoue could successfully and completely erase the hole in her stomach.

And she had done so. A day after his and Rukia’s arrival, the rest of the unofficial (and unapproved) rescue group had returned. Ichigo was sure that they were annoyed with his rushing off the moment he laid his hands on Rukia. Except for the look of relief he received from Chad, the rest had practically ignored him, even though their beds in the 4th Division room were right next to each other. It was very likely that they were yet more pissed when he had requested (as politely as he could) for Inoue to heal Rukia. At least, that was how Ishida had seemed.

Well, he would clear everything between them, after seeing Rukia. He still had the ‘hearts connecting’ thing to ask her, too.

-

When Ichigo rounded the corner, he gave a rather audible gasp. His feet ceased moving.

Rukia. She was sitting on one of the tables, her feet dangling inches from the wooden floor. Her head was turned away from him, looking at the gloaming sun through the window. But somehow… Somehow, her form was smaller than her usual, already bantam figure.

Ichigo blinked. This girl wasn’t Rukia, he could see that now, though she appeared to be like her. He knew about her elder sister, but she was dead. And there couldn’t be a younger one, based on what he had understood…

“Oi,” Ichigo found his voice. “Who are you?”

“Who are you?” She parroted in a voice not unlike Rukia’s, but it sounded much more childlike.

Nope. She couldn’t be the ghost of her elder sister, either. Ichigo had not seen or heard of ghosts existing in Soul Society, since all it inhabitants were dead, and all had substantial bodies. Perhaps it was a ghost-of-young-Rukia. Ichigo wasn’t sure if those existed, but that would explain this being’s youthfulness (not that Rukia was very old).

Now that he had found a reason for her existence (albeit a rather illogical one), he asked her, less anxiously, “You are the child-Rukia-ghost, yes?”

Again, she twisted his question, “I am the child-Rukia-ghost, yes?”

This time, she turned to face him, the shadow of a smile lingering at her lips. Her eyes were shadowed, so he could only tell that they were dark-coloured. She also had that (irritating) strand of hair falling is a slight curve across her nose. Around her shoulders draped a pale-pink intricately embroidered haori which almost concealed the silver kimono underneath. Pink. Ichigo had never seen Rukia wearing pink before. Were those the type of clothes that Byakuya had made Rukia wear when she was younger? He had no idea when Rukia was adopted.

“Where is she?” Ichigo crossed his fingers. Please answer my question, then I don’t have to waste my time searching for her in this damned maze-of-a-mansion.

“The current-Rukia?”

“Yes. The current-Rukia. Where is she?”

She flashed him a maddening smile and said, “East. Go east. She’ll be there.”

With that cryptic un-answer, she leapt off the table and sped down the corridor. Ichigo felt an urge to chase after her, but upon hearing a resounding “I am shinkirou…” coming from where she had just disappeared, he blinked.

There wasn’t a point in chasing after her. Should he follow her directions? After all, she could have been a hallucination. His mind must be going fuzzy after being pounded so in Hueco Mundo. Well, Ichigo couldn’t think of an alternative way to look for Rukia without getting to her after midnight, so he sighed and headed eastwards.

-

“What are you doing here, Abarai Renji, fukutaichou of the 6th Division?”

“You…” Renji knew who she was not. “You are not Rukia.”

“Only blinded fools would think that I am her.” She replied haughtily, and added, “Or the ghost of her younger self.”

“I’ve never heard of those, nor have I heard of you, little girl. Who are you?”

She mimicked him, “Who am I?”

“Aa, just get to the point, girl. I have to find Rukia. It seems as if Dandelion-head has gone looking for her, too.” Renji glanced down the hallway impatiently.

“Shinkirou. I am Shinkirou.” She was fingering and staring at the wood grain of another of the numerous tables that were placed around the house.

Renji sighed, exasperated. “You and I both know that you are real. Stop wasting my time.”

The girl looked at him. “I said, my name is ‘Shinkirou’. It is a flaw in your comprehension skills that wastes your time, Abarai Renji.”

His eyes widened. “You don’t happen to be related to my taichou, do you?”

“I see no link between your question and my answer, fukutaichou.” Her fingers left the surface of the table and twisted together in her lap, although the expression in her face never changed; the slate-grey eyes remained unreadable, the half-smile still in place.

Realisation dawned upon Renji. He was absolutely sure who she was now. “Kuchiki Shinkirou, you are Kuchiki- taichou and Rukia’s sister’s daughter.”

“Whoever I am, it is of no matter to you.” Shinkirou dropped (gracefully) to the floor from her perch. “If you still have the intention of looking for Rukia-sama, she is in the eastern courtyard.”

Renji was left standing alone. The traces of Shinkirou’s reiatsu had not yet disappeared. Renji grinned, his eyes narrowed. Indeed, that little girl was related to Byakuya- there was just so much evidence for her being so. She hadn’t even denied it when he had made that revelation. Wondering what the other shinigami would say if he were to reveal his taichou’s secret (it can only be called that, since, apparently, no one from the outside world knew about the girl), Renji headed east.

-

Ichigo got there first. He had not expected ‘east’ to mean a small courtyard garden, nor had he thought that he would see Rukia seated high in the branches of the largest tree, staring at the twilight sky.

He supposed that the tall, majestic trees that stood (ornamentally) around bore sakura blossoms in spring. Byakuya’s fondness for the pulchritudinous, though short-lasting, flowers extended throughout wherever he was. It was nearly winter now, hence the painfully bare appearance of the garden- the Kuchiki house grew no evergreens. Ichigo gritted his teeth; he did not want to be reminded about the imminent Winter War. Two days had passed, but the Hueco Mundo rescue had still left a bitter aftertaste.

“Ichigo!” Rukia was twisted at the waist, staring intently at him. She had felt his presence the moment he entered the mansion. Waiting for him was boring and looking for him was out of the question. Ni-sama would kill her, or him, or both of them if anything were to happen to Rukia in her current state while she ran around hunting down Ichigo. So she had decided to climb her favourite sakura tree, scraping her knees and the heels of her palms while doing so. She had simply been staring at the greying clouds without thinking about anything. It was better that way, really, when there was too much that could be thought about.

“Yo, Rukia,” Ichigo approached her (or the tree).

“What took you so long?” She asked from her exalted position. “Your reiatsu-searching skills still suck, huh.”

Of course, Ichigo got annoyed. He looked down, away from her to conceal his smile, one which could be called devilish is a lesser man. On Ichigo, however, calling it ‘charming’ wouldn’t have you branded as a liar.

1… 2… “Are you- GARH!” …3… “Let go of me, fool!”

Ichigo had shunpoed up the tree, prayed that she wouldn’t kick him, and lifted her up in his arms. It was… nice, carrying her this way. Like how he had done, two days ago…

Before she could protest (again), he quickly flashed back to the veranda and dumped her there. “You were supposed to be healing, weren’t you? Climbing trees isn’t part of the process. For all you know, a branch could just-”

“Shut up,” Rukia muttered as she straightened her copper-rose-coloured haori. She didn’t hit or kick him in revenge.

For a while, there was a peaceful silence. They were both content with looking as the sky, which was darkening by the second.

“So, do you remem-” Ichigo faltered. “Hey, did you have a pink coat when you were younger?”

“Pink? No,” She looked at him curiously, expecting him to give a reason for his strange question. Since when had he notice what she wore, anyway? It was even weirder that a light flush appeared on Ichigo’s cheeks. He was embarrassed now?

In an attempt to get him to answer her unspoken question, she said, “It’s alright to ask about what I wear Ichigo. I don’t mind.”

Great. Now she thought that he was interested in her clothes, of all things. So much for the side-approach.

“I thought I had seen the ghost of your younger self,” he stated, and gestured at her housecoat. “She was wearing the same thing as you, but it was pink.”

“Ghosts do not exist in Soul Society, Ichigo,” Rukia frowned. ‘Ghost of your younger self’…But there wasn’t anyone who looked like her living in this mansion, with her sister dead. Who in Soul Society…

“I know that. That’s why I’d said ‘thought’. But if it wasn’t you, or a ghost of you, then…”

“What had she said to you?”

“‘I am shinkirou’, she had called out before leaving…”

“Shinkirou?” By now, both of them had (severely) wrinkled foreheads.

“Yo, Rukia,” A new voice came from behind them.

Rukia acknowledged the man behind them without turning, “Renji.”

Ichigo glared at him, irritated that his conversation with Rukia had been interrupted.

Renji had been pleased to see that he had ruined Ichigo’s plans, but he frowned (the third member to join the Wrinkly-Foreheads Club) upon noticing the Rukia’s proximity to Ichigo.

He forced himself into the (wee) gap in the middle, ejecting loud cries of “What the hell are you doing, Renji?” from the duo. When he had settled into a relatively comfortable position, Renji announced, “Rukia, Shinkirou is your niece.”

Of course, this resulted in ‘what-the-hell’ looks from the two at his respective sides.

Rukia recovered first, and said in a voice no less incredulous, “Ni-sama has a daughter?”

“Yes. Dandelion-head over here has seen her, too. He though that she was your ghost.”

Ichigo scowled at the chuckling Renji. “That’s right. She looked like you, with the strip of hair dangling and all.”

Rukia flicked the said ‘strip of hair’ to the side, but it fell back into place again. “How do you know that she was ni-sama’s daughter?”

“You know how Kuchiki-taichou speaks? Her speech is like his. ‘Abarai Renji, it is of no matter to you, whoever I am.’”

“Aa,” said Rukia.

“And her eyes. They were like yours. And his. Grey, unreadable, but they were shaped like yours, Rukia.”

Ichigo stood up. “See you later, Rukia, Renji. I…I will go look for Chad and the rest.”

They turned to stare at his receding back.

Renji continued, “Anyway, she had also said…”

-

It had felt rather uncomfortable to be seated beside them, and not be included in the conversation. Well, it wasn’t as if they were openly ignoring him, but Renji…Ichigo wondered if Renji knew that he would react this way. Even if he had no idea, Renji would be celebrating in his mind right now. Right from the moment he had met Renji, Ichigo knew that he viewed him as a rival. Well, let him think that Ichigo, by leaving abruptly, had conceded.

He would look for Rukia again, later.

-

The girl smoothed out the folds in her sakura-embroidered haori as she sat herself on the long windowsill of the study.

“They were both looking for her.” She traced out the patterns done in silver thread on her haori.

For a while, there was just the swish-swish sound of a brush on paper, and the soft crinkling when a page was turned. Then came the awaited answer.

“I see.”

“I met them. Kurosaki Ichigo and Abarai Renji. The Dandelion-boy had thought that I was Rukia-obasama’s ghost-” -laughter crept into her tone here- “So I humoured him. I told him where ‘the current-Rukia’ was. Then I told him I was shinkirou. An illusion.”

“But the fukutaichou had guessed who I am in just a short while. Impressive. For one who seems like a boor, his mind can be sharp. But of course, I should not be surprised, for it was you who chose him, otousama.”

She looked at her father. His head was inclined towards the sheets in front of him, the brush in his hand moved in flowing strokes across the white parchment. Shinki knew that he was processing her words in his mind, even though he looked undistracted. All of the Kuchiki learn how to mask their thoughts from a young age. It would take a ‘wooden-face’ practicer to break the language code of another ‘wooden-face’ practicer.

She strode past a snow-china vase of blue bellflowers to stand by his side.

“Still, otousama, I would rather have Dandelion-boy instead of your fukutaichou as my ojisama. Orange, as a colour, is more fun than red, no?”

Kuchiki Byakuya continued to silently process her words. Shinkirou decided that she did not want to wait anymore. She ducked under his left arm and pulled herself onto his lap. Byakuya continued uninterruptedly with his reports, even when Shinkirou leaned back against his chest. This was so much better than sitting on those quaint little tables that he had set around the house for her use.

“Obasama would know about me after this. It would change everything. Life would be more interesting,” Shinkirou said softly. “You would have to let me out, otousama.”

Byakuya finally laid down his brush. His arms circled around his daughter, his chin rested on her head. Let her out? He had lost Hisana, Rukia had almost died, just because he had allowed them to go out of his sight. He could not bear losing this girl. If she were to go the same way as the other Kuchiki women, his Shinkirou would disappear. No.

“Wait a little longer, Shinki,” he said into her hair. “You can have your obasama and your ojisama without setting a foot out of here. You know why I can’t let you out. Not so soon.”

Shinki turned and flashed him a smile, a genuine one, this time. “Of course. But only for a little while more.”

Byakuya sighed. This was the little girl that the woman who he fell in love with gave birth to. She had been with him longer than Hisana had; losing her would be like losing Hisana thrice, not twice. “Disappear not, Shinkirou.” It was a chant-like phrase that he had developed over the years.

“It’s not my fault that I am named ‘mirage’,” muttered Shinki, closing her eyes.

“Hisana had not named you ‘mirage’, Shinki. You are my precious white carnelian. Shinkirou.”

-

It was almost midnight. Ichigo did not know what it was that made him look for her at this ungodly hour.

Alright. He did know. It was because of the words she had said before she passed out, nearly three days previous. “…We connect…” He was pretty certain that her ‘we’ did include him. Ichigo hoped that it wasn’t just wishful thinking.

He leaned against the smooth outer wall of the Kuchiki mansion’s eastern courtyard. Now he only had to find some way to…

“Ichigo!”

“BWA-” A hand clamped over his mouth. “Meet me at the senzaikyuu. Go, now.”

Rukia. How did she know that he would come? Through detecting his reiatsu? Crap. That would mean that Byakuya also knew about his presence near his house.

Ichigo dashed off towards the center of seireitei.

-

He did not have to wait long. Minutes later, Rukia came running onto the bridge. She was completely breathless.

“Invalids shouldn’t run, either,” observed Ichigo as he handed her his flask. It was amazing how he had the foresight to know that she would need a drink when she got to him.

“Shut up,” panted Rukia as she downed the contents of his flask.

When she was done, Ichigo took it back from her and stuffed it done his top. He leaned against the railing of the bridge, his arms gripping it tightly while he looked down. “Why here?”

“Because you know very well that ni-sama would be less than happy to find out that you have been visiting me in the middle of the night,” Rukia raised herself onto the railing.

“Don’t fall,” he cautioned. “Your brother wouldn’t believe me if I told him that it was your fault if you fall to your death.”

“You had wanted to ask me something?” she reminded him.

“Yes,” he said. “I would like to clarify something you had said.”

Rukia glanced down at him. “Stop being so formal.”

Ichigo did not look at her. He rushed out, “You’d–said-something-about-‘hearts’-and-‘connection’-before-you-went-unconscious.”

“Oh.”

“Explaining?”

She was silent for a while. Then she told him, softly, “It was something my senior had told me. ‘You must absolutely not die alone, Kuchiki’, he had said. He had this theory; every time you and I connect with each other, a little heart is born between us. Heart wasn’t something physical to Kaien-dono. It isn’t just something inside us. It is born whenever we think about someone. And when we die, it is passed on to our nakama.

“When I was dying… When I was dying, Ichigo, I was thinking of his words. I knew that I couldn’t die. Not alone. Seeing Kaien-dono’s likeness was a reminder. I was waiting for my nakama to pass my heart on to,” Rukia looked straight into his eyes, for he was staring at her now. “I was waiting for you, Ichigo.”

Ichigo stared at Rukia, and Rukia stared right back. Then he changed his position, planting both his hands onto the railing by Rukia’s sides.

“You know that we aren’t just nakama, Rukia.”

Rukia had to look up this time. “…No…”

It was the perfect moment. Ichigo could simply lean down and…

… Kiss her.

His hands went to her back, preventing her from toppling over backwards. Ichigo’s mouth swooped upon Rukia’s, and she parted hers slightly. Her lips moved upon his hesitatingly at first, but they gradually became more insistent. Their tongues met. Connected. Rukia lifted her hands into Ichigo’s hair, burying her fingers into the mass of orange.

Heart has been born between them.

-

“Kuchiki Rukia.”

Byakuya. What the hell?

“N-ni-sama,” Rukia whispered.

And they were free falling…

Ichigo, who had his arms around Rukia, pulled her tighter. But before he could shunpo the both of them up (to their doom), away from falling to their deaths (the other doom), another pair of hands found their way behind his back and his knees.

…And then they were back on solid ground.

Damn. Byakuya had just touched his body! Ichigo set Rukia onto her feet, trying to avoid looking at anything and anyone else ten inches away from him.

“Kurosaki Ichigo,” Byakuya looked at the flustered boy. “Leave us.”

Ichigo was about to give a retort when he saw Rukia’s flashing eyes. Leave. He stepped past her and Byakuya and was off like greased lightning.

Rukia had expected her brother to admonish her, or at least give her a disproving glance before ordering her home. But he did not.

“I presume that you have heard about Shinkirou?” He asked her mildly, after rubbing his white gloves, discretely, against his black hakama.

“Y-yes.”

“She has asked for your company. Kurosaki Ichigo would be allowed to continue visiting us, indefinitely, if you acknowledge her as your niece.”

Was ni-sama driving a bargain? What has Ichigo visiting got to do with Shinkirou? But by accepting his…offer, everyone would benefit, right?

“I will acknowledge her as my sister’s daughter, ni-sama.” Rukia straightened up and stood in front of him.

“Good.”

-

“Why?” was the first question that both Rukia and Ichigo had asked Shinki.

They did not understand what their relationship had to do with their accompanying Shinkirou around. And it wasn’t as if they could bring her out of the house; mostly, they were restricted to racing around the maze-like corridors(It wasn’t fair, since both Ichigo and Shinkirou were better at shunpo than Rukia was.), or visiting the several courtyards, of which one contained a meadowful of rabbits (Ichigo had simply stared while Rukia and Shinki ran around raining apples cubes and strawberries on the bunnies; it seemed as if they had been there many times before, but had never met, since Shinki was keen on the whole hide-from-obasama game), or simply talking.

Shinki had smiled at them, “Just because, Rukia-obasama. Because, Dandelion-boy.”

She was happy. They were happy. Her otousama was happy to see her happy.

You could say that Ichigo and Rukia were allowed to be happy only because they made Shinkirou happy. For if she wasn’t, sakura petals could easily pierce them all.

Shinki supposed that they had already guessed the reason why they had to ‘visit’ her so often, and the consequences if they did not. But she was certain that they did not know about the bigger picture, that they were also indirectly saving Kuchiki Byakuya from losing what he held most dear, or what she was grooming them up for.

Shinkirou beamed up at her future ojisama.

After all, she was older than he was. ‘Looks can be deceiving.’ Let them all think that she was the little girl who found playing with her three-times-older aunt and almost-three-times-younger…friend fun. She got a greater kick out of playing ‘matchmaker’ to the two young ones, and doing it in secret was an even greater jollity.

‘Because’ would settle as an explanation for them, just as her father’s short (and often cold) statements had satisfied his subordinates for the past decades.

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I've decided that I dislike Blogger. I can't even edit my stuff properly here! Garh.

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